Not Ready for Prime Rib
by StatsGrandma57
Summary: Leia wants to cook something for Han. Set very shortly after their marriage. Fluffy one shot.


NOT READY FOR PRIME RIB

(Han)

It's 1900 hours. I spent the first part of the day in meetings about supply deliveries, which bored me senseless - really, just give me a manifest and I'm outta here. I've been from one end of the galaxy to the other, seen a lot of strange stuff, and I know how long it takes to get from Point A to Point B. I know how much fuel I'll need, how much I'll need in funds for tariffs and the occasional bribe. Yes, I know, we won the war, but that doesn't mean that everybody's about to abandon extortion.

After the meeting Chewie and me headed over to the _Falcon_ to get her ready to fly. Leia kids me that I'd go insane if there was nothing that I needed to repair on her. I can assure her that that will never happen.

"Time to call it a night," I tell Chewie.

{You're going to make me do all the clean up, aren't you}?

"I don't make you do all the clean up!"

{The hells you don't}. But he's laughing at me. We put the tools away, latch the gangway, and head for my speeder. Chewie's taken an apartment in the same building Leia and I moved into a few weeks before our wedding.

As usual, Coruscant traffic is hideous, but it sure as hells beats being chased by TIE fighters and bombarded by asteroids, although sometimes you could fool me. The main danger is that it's amateur hour. Really, driving should be left to the professionals.

{Is Leia home tonight}? Chewie asks me.

"She should be there by about 2100." Leia's been offworld for five days. I miss her more than I care to express, and I plan to have my way with her tonight. Unless she decides to have her way with me. That's even better.

{I guess you'll be mating}, Chewie laughs.

"Very funny, Fuzzball."

We manage to avoid drivers who are talking on their comm links, reading their datapads, driniking kafs, putting on makeup and other activities which appear to take precedence over driving itself, and arrive back at our apartment complex missing no limbs and/or vital organs. You take victory where you can.

I need to tidy the place up a bit; Leia deserves to come home to an apartment that doesn't look like a bad bachelor party took place. Okay, maybe it's not that bad, but with our schedules, basic household maintenance is fairly far down our list of priorities. Leia's suggested we get a cleaning droid, which I'm not at all sure I could stand. Threepio hangs out here a lot with us, and when I asked him to do it, he nearly destroyed some of the furniture I built by stripping the stain off with the wrong cleanser. The moral of that story is, never let a protocol droid clean your house.

I head up the lifts, set in the key code to remove the electronic shields that keep intruders out of each floor (we have a lot of dignitaries in this building and assassination is never far from their minds), and head towards the door of our apartment, I smell something burning. What bothers me most is that it gets stronger as I approach our apartment, and by the time I've entered the key code, I'm wondering if I need to call the fire response team. I don't remember lighting any candles while Leia's been away; I just hope we haven't been broken into. (It's hard but it can be done.)

The smoke sensor is shrieking and the kitchen is loaded with it. "Han, is that you?" Leia shouts out, her voice alarmed.

I go over to the kitchen. I see there's a pot on the stove that's burning up and Leia is about to throw a cup of water on it.

"Don't do that!" I shout instinctively. "That's a grease fire!" I grab a box of bicarbonate from the cupboard and douse it. I check the broiler and sure enough, there's a giant rack of charred what I think were once traladon ribs. I grab two hot mitts and pull them out.

"I'm sorry." I look at my wife, whose expression is positively bereft. "I wanted to...try to cook something special for you."

I take her in my arms. It's almost humorous how badly her experiment went, but I just press her against me. Despite the culinary situation, it feels so good to have her in my arms again. Her soft skin and silky hair, despite possessing a bit of a smoky aroma, give me comfort - and other things - like no one else.

Fact is, I'm touched that she'd make this sort of attempt to please me.

"Maybe a few nights with the FoodHolos isn't enough," she says sadly.

"Hey, no getting discouraged here. Save that for your diplomatic negotiations where it belongs." I get her to laugh.

"At least I didn't screw up the ale," she says, opening the cooler door. We each grab one and head for the living room, away from the disaster in the kitchen.

"At this point, the ale would've been screwed up way before now." We toast each other and laugh as we lean into the sofa.

"I really wanted to surprise you," Leia says to me. Her beautiful face is sad again. "Roya, the Exchequer of Danteel, is not only an adept financier, but an incredible cook. Her favorite way to relax is watching FoodHolos. I saw how appreciative her husband was of her efforts in the kitchen. And I know you love good food."

"You know, some of the FoodHolos are a lot of fun, but a lot of 'em don't make stuff that people eat every day. And they've got industrial strength kitchens. Me, I just want something solid and tasty and hot."

"You're an excellent cook, Han. I don't understand why I find it so difficult."

"Hey, the only reason I can cook is because of all my years watching Dewlanna in action. She didn't cook fancy, but her food always tasted good. I bet you didn't get to hang out in the kitchen very much."

"To be honest, the cook we had was not particularly tolerant of my being there, especially when I was little. Sometimes my father would let me paint in the eating area, but if I got underfoot I'd hear about it, loudly."

"Well, there you have it. Lack of exposure." Seems reasonable enough to me. "Hey, all that matters to me is, you tried, and you did it for all the right reasons." I draw her face towards me and kiss her again.

"But I want to learn how!"

Have I mentioned that my wife is incredibly stubborn?

"Well, if you don't mind learning the basics, I'd be happy to show you," I tell her.

"I'd like that." She leans her head on my shoulder. "One of the drawbacks of having grown up as a princess is that I have very little in the way of practical skills."

"So? You'll learn them."

"I'm pretty hopeless."

"You never had sex before you met me, either. And now look at you. You're the ultimate sex goddess. You're not afraid to try new things. And you're a quick study. So why should it be any different with cooking?"

"I usually don't nearly start the apartment on fire when I'm making love with you."

"Yeah, but you sure as hells light a fire in me." I take her into my arms and the familiar flutter begins in my stomach. "Tell you what. We'll get some take out in a little while. And when I get back from making deliveries, I'll teach you how to cook. But I think we should have dessert first."

"I'm good with that," she says happily as she takes my hand and leads me to our bedroom.


End file.
